


Rest please

by Esbe



Series: Together [12]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Mentions of Shooting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-07
Updated: 2017-08-07
Packaged: 2018-12-09 21:50:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11677767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Esbe/pseuds/Esbe
Summary: Mycroft plans a proper date





	Rest please

**Author's Note:**

> Do you recall that last we left these idiots John had been wondering what the protocol for the date was? Well here is the date itself.  
> And no like everything else you can skip all the parts before and just enjoy this as it is. Build the pre-story as you want ok.

It had been a catastrophic disaster! Mycroft fumed to himself. He had only himself to blame after all. He should have known. But his damned ego and his need to impress… It was only his inherent kindness that John was even in the same car with him. Kindness and the sheer doggedness of John Watson to see a thing to its end.

John was grim faced as he stripped Mycroft. His left side was bruised badly due to the fall and he considered undressing himself and sparing John. But only for a fraction of a second, in the face of John looking as he was he wouldn't dare suggest any such thing. No, definitely not with John looking the way he was. Dammit he had been looking forward to John seeing him in these clothes again. It was his only linen suit and John's eyes had lit up when he had seen it first on Mycroft two weeks back. The jacket, waistcoat and shirt would all have to go, even if they had survived the fall the bullet hole through them couldn’t be mended. Mycroft sighed to himself. This was not how he had envisioned being stripped by John on what had promised to be their first time _together_. Today just wasn't his day he thought as he stepped out of his trousers.

The meeting with the Nigerians had gone awry. The negotiations with the current ambassador of the _Bratva_ had gone bust and _A_ had been injured in the aftermath. The message to cancel to his people had been forgotten (A usually handled that and he had been too frantic with worry over her to even recall the date). As a result, the car had dropped John to his ‘office’ just as he and A had been brought in. Given A’s wound and Mycroft’s well known reluctance to be treated by doctors (Sherlock wasn’t the only one), it was decided that A would receive the doctor’s full attention and John would treat Mycroft ‘at home’.

His dinner date with John was of course ruined and now John was being so grimly solicitous that Mycroft’s frustration was mounting. As John unbuttoned his shirt, he hastily shrugged it off and then his custom-made protective vest. His shoulder protested but he'd had enough. He draped them on the chair and turned back. He was not prepared for the gasp that escaped John. The bruise was spectacular. The vest had done its job but a bullet of that calibre and at such a close range could still do some damage. Not to mention the various scrapes, bruises and cuts elsewhere. His fall definitely hadn’t helped.

Trembling fingers reached out to the spot where the bullet had attempted to enter his chest. John stared unblinking for a moment. Then the professional took over and he completed his examination. John cleaned the various scrapes with an antiseptic solution. It looked far worse than it was. Of course it would hurt spectacularly for the next few days till it scabbed completely. John dressed the shallow wound on his shin, A had been asking that his protective have full body coverage but he still thought that was overdoing it. John shook out the analgesics and anti-inflammatories and handed it all with a glass of water. He helped Mycroft into his grey satin pyjamas and asked him to rest for a bit. Mycroft was tired and more than a little in pain but the prospect of curtailing his time with John was unacceptable. But as he began to speak, John laid a hand on his mouth. “Just lie down ok. I wont be a minute.”

Mycroft lay down but his mind was working a minute a mile. He exchanged a few quick messages with A. The meetings tomorrow would go as planned but her assistant would be there instead. She would be back the day after no matter what the bloody doctor said (her words).

A already had a plan in place to teach the “effing Russians” who held power in this part of the world. (He almost smiled as he realised that she had sent it to him merely as a FYI.)

They now had the intelligence regarding why the Nigerians had been so stubborn in their refusal (sodding Americans) and he issued instructions to his team that would remove the _impediment_. A quick call to the Canadians would be required tomorrow. He was on to his last message when John returned. The cold reproving look made him feel warm instead of upset and Mycroft wondered if Captain Watson ever had had to reprimand his men; perhaps that look sufficed.

“Could you please remind Ms. Anthea to follow her doctor’s instructions and allow yourself to follow mine?”

The tone was so polite that he added an unusual “Goodnight” to his last message to A. She would get it and perhaps get a laugh out of it. “Yes, doctor.”

He put down his phone and looked up only to see John removing his tie and jacket. To say that Mycroft was surprised would be a severe understatement. John methodically stripped himself to his vest and boxers (so it was true that the army stripped you of your inhibitions). Then he pulled the velvet quilt (a souvenir from his last trip to India) over Mycroft’s prone form. Dimmed the lights and slipped into the bed. He pulled Mycroft softly into his arms, “Just rest yourself, Mycroft. I’ll be here. I’ve asked your staff to leave us something to eat in the kitchen. We will have a bite whenever we are hungry.”

“John.”

“Hm?”

“Thanks.”

“Hm.”

“This isn’t what I had planned.”

“Stating the obvious, Mr. Holmes?”

“Hardly, Doctor Watson. I meant…”

“Planned on some hot sex had we?” That man was wicked!

“Incorrigible. And yes, I had.”

“Good. So have I.”

“Have? You mean—”

“Shhhhh! No sound.”

“John?”

“…”

“John?”

“Mycroft Holmes, you are under strict supervision and are not allowed to move or exert yourself in any way. So yeah **rest please** and I will deliver the food and the sex.”

 

_Rest?_

**Author's Note:**

> What do you think? Should we let them get some?  
> I'm not too inclined you know. Torturing Mycroft is just too delish. 
> 
> Let me know please it is always great to hear from all of you :)


End file.
